Damsel in the Dress
by WritePassion
Summary: While fishing in the surf, Sam caught something a lot bigger than a tuna, and with it, trouble. Updated and tweaked for your reading pleasure!
1. Chapter 1

I acknowledge that these characters are not mine, except those I made up, and I'm only borrowing them for a little while. I promise to return them in good shape!

I made some more minor changes to the story since it was posted.

**Damsel in the Dress**

By WritePassion

In one fluid movement, Sam threw the rod backwards high over his shoulder and flicked it forward with a snap. The line whirred softly as it unraveled from the reel and the lure landed out on the surf. The sun was rising over the waves, already proving that it would be another hot one today. He swiped a bead of perspiration that dribbled down past his brows before the saltiness could sting his eyes. Then he reeled in the line slowly, letting the bait get carried by the rushing water. A wave broke right in front of him and splashed his t-shirt with lukewarm saltwater. He smiled as the sea water crashed against his legs and the sand underneath covered his bare feet. There was nothing like an early morning fishing expedition along the coast, at a time when he shared the beach with only a couple of joggers and a hoard of seagulls. The birds circled above, screeching and hoping to catch whatever his line snagged. He chuckled under his breath and glanced up at them.

"Anybody tries anything, and they'll be sorry." Something splashed into the water nearby, and he glared at the bird circling above. "That means you too, bucko."

The birds squawked and carried on until they ruined the effects of the beautiful day, irritating Sam enough to give up. He hadn't caught a thing. With a heavy sigh, he reeled in his line, removed the bait, and threw it toward the sea. A gull swooped and caught it in midair.

"Oh, now you're just showing off! Damn birds!"

He slogged through the water and up to the hard packed sand where he kept his tackle box and sandals. With a sigh he donned his footwear and decided to try farther down the beach. Maybe he would have better luck somewhere else.

As he walked, he thought about Michael and wondered where he was. Several times over the course of three days he tried his cell, but it went straight to voicemail. Sam knew he was incommunicado on a mission for the CIA, but that wouldn't stop Sam from trying. Unfortunately, it irritated Fiona to no end, because Michael's cell was at the loft, and so was Fiona.

_Maybe I should go over to the loft and help Fi with the painting. _While Michael was gone, Fiona was taking advantage of the down time to repaint and continue to redecorate the loft. Sam shook his head as he imagined what Mikey's reaction would be when he returned. He probably wouldn't recognize the place anymore.

Before he got off two casts south of where he started, the birds were back with a vengeance. He shook his head and tried to ignore the intrusion. The line sailed gracefully over the waves and landed with a soft plop. The screeching rang in his ears, and he wished he could whip out one of Fi's Mac10s and take care of them all in a matter of seconds.

"Help!"

As he reeled in his line, Sam heard the cry, but he didn't know where it came from. The surf crashed, subduing another plea. "Someone, please...help me!"

He squinted at something out on a wave. It disappeared, then reappeared. It was an arm, with a hand stretched toward the sky. On the next crest, a head appeared, and the distressed voice cried out again. "Help!"

Sam dropped his prized fishing rod onto the sand, kicked off his sandals, and ran toward the surf. "I'm coming! Hang on!" He pushed through the water, and as it got deeper, every step took more effort. When it was too deep to stand, he swam. The waves were strong, but he also recognized that both he and the person in distress were being pulled out to sea in a strong rip current. He used this to his advantage to swim faster and get closer.

A wave curled over him and Sam came up sputtering. He rode the swell of another and looked around. His target was gone! He fought back against the rising tide of anxiety and when he saw the head come up again, he breathed out in relief. The face turned toward him. They were only a few yards apart now, and Sam could see it was a woman. Her blue eyes were wide in panic and her mouth open wide. Water sloshed into her mouth, and she gagged.

"Oh..." Another wave smashed over her. She popped up and gasped for air. "Please! Help!"

He spit out a mouthful of warm saltwater himself and grimaced at the taste. "I'm coming! Just...stay calm!" He was almost there, closing in. "Just float! Don't struggle, just float!"

She nodded and struggled to get on her back to ride the next wave. It tossed her onto her stomach, and that was where Sam caught her. The wave pushed her into him and they went under, rolling and twisting beneath the waterline. But he wasn't about to let go and lose her. He felt the tide pulling them back out, and he pushed them both to the surface.

They broke through and she coughed uncontrollably. "It's okay, I've got you. I've got you. Just relax, and I'll get you out of here."

She nodded but she was too stiff with fear and tried paddling. Her efforts only went against Sam's, and they got nowhere.

"Hey, don't move! Just let me do all the work, okay?"

"I-I'm s-scared."

"I promise...I won't let go of you! I know what I'm doing, I've been trained to rescue..." Another wave doused them and they came up sputtering. "I'll get you to dry land." He hoped the determination in his voice would be enough to settle her, and it seemed to work. She was quiet and relaxed in his grip.

Sam threaded his arm underneath hers and across her chest, and began side stroking on a parallel course with the beach. Each wave pushed them closer and closer to the sand, and eventually he was able to touch the bottom. It was a good thing, because he was getting tired, and he didn't know how much longer he would be able to hang onto her. With the last of his strength, he cradled her in his arms and pulled her up to the hard packed sand. He glanced around but there were no other people who might be able to assist. His breath came in short gasps as he picked her up and carried her away from the surf. His knees gave way, and he lay her on the beach as softly as he could.

He coughed up some more sea water. "Hey, you okay?" He removed his arm from behind her neck and realized that she wasn't breathing. Her lips were turning blue. With eyes wide, he curled his hand around to the place on her neck where her pulse thrummed, but it was weak.

Without another thought, he tilted her head back, pinched her nose shut, and fit his mouth over hers. He exhaled into her mouth, and out of the corner of his eye he saw her chest rise. She was fully clothed and it looked like she wore evening wear, which seemed odd. Sequins scattered across the bodice sparkled in the early morning sunlight as her chest fell with the expelled breath. He tried again. And again. Just when he thought that maybe she would never breathe on her own without professional medical attention, she sucked in a deep breath and coughed out a mouthful of water. She rolled to her side and expelled a good amount, then turned back to him.

Sam sat back on his heels as she reached out, grabbed his soaked t-shirt and hung on tightly while she tried to catch a good breath. He was used to women clawing at him, but not like this. "Hey, hey, lady! Just relax, you're gonna be okay."

She shook as if she were having a seizure, but her eyes were wide open and focused on him as she whispered, "I...I need help." She threw one of her arms over his shoulder and the other around his waist. "P-please, don't leave me."

He wrapped her in his arms and held her close. "I wasn't planning on it, not until I know you're okay." He pulled her into his lap. "We need to get you out of here. You're going into shock. Do you think you can stand?"

"I-I don't know."

"Let's try it, okay? Worst thing that happens is I carry you to my car. It's just up there." He jutted his chin toward the parking lot, or at least where he thought the parking lot was. "Damn. We must have drifted farther than I thought. Looks like I've got a hike."

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "Just...just leave me here."

"No way, honey. Your in the safe keeping of Sam Axe, and I never, ever leave a man...or woman...behind." He grinned and winked at her.

She smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Axe."

"What's your name?" Sam helped her sit. She teetered a little, so he supported her back. "Woah, let's give this a minute before you try anything."

She gingerly touched her left temple, where Sam noticed a bruise and a large bump forming. She winced and her brow crinkled. "H-how did this happen?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me. But why don't we start with your name?"

Her eyes locked on his, and he saw the panic behind them. "I-I can't remember! Sam, I can't remember my own name!"

"Do you remember where you're from?"

"No! It's...it's all gone!" She shook her head violently as her eyes filled with tears.

She spoke with a British accent that Sam suspected was tainted by many years living in the States. With a dress like that, she had to be wealthy, or knew someone who was. But none of that was important right now. First order of business was to get her calmed down. He gently grasped her arms and spoke to her with soothing tones. "It's okay, it's probably just temporary. That's quite a bump on the noggin there, so you probably have a concussion." He rose and held out his hands. "Let's see if you can stand up, okay? Nice and slow."

She nodded, took his hands with a strong grip, and he pulled her to her feet. Her legs were weak and rubbery, but his hands nearly circled her waist to keep her from falling. She was so petite, like Fiona, and in her present state, fragile.

"I'm afraid I'm not very good at this."

"It's okay. I've got you, and I promise, I won't let you fall."

Tears flooded her eyes as she looked up at him. "Thank you, Sam, for being my rescuing angel." She teetered forward and her chin crashed into his chest as she crumbled. Good thing he'd seen her eyes roll, or they might have both landed in a heap on the sand. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to where his sandals and fishing gear still lay. Unsure of how he would retrieve his things and carry the woman, he looked around for a solution. A kid about twelve years old waded in the surf with his black lab dancing around in the waves.

Sam whistled, and the kid turned his attention to him. "Hey kid! You wanna make a couple bucks?"

"Sure, dude. What'dya want?" He ran and came close, saw the woman, and tilted his head toward her. "What's up with the lady?"

"Nothin' you need to worry about, kid. If you take my gear up to my car, I'll give you five bucks." Sam jerked his head toward the parking lot. "It's just up there."

The kid's mouth worked as he thought about it. Sam wished he'd hurry up, because the woman, although slight, was getting heavy.

"For ten I'll do it."

Sam rolled his eyes. If it weren't his new gear, he'd tell the kid where to stick it, but he relented. "Okay, just watch that line. It ain't cheap."

"Yeah, yeah. I know how to handle a rod like this. It's sweet." He grinned, carefully and methodically broke down the rod in seconds, and picked up the tackle box. "Okay, where do we go?"

The kid followed him up to the lot and stopped short of the trunk. He waited patiently while Sam opened the car and carefully place the unconscious woman in the front seat. After he opened the trunk and allowed the kid to put the gear inside, he quickly closed it before the boy could see the duffel bag full of C4 that Fiona left inside along with a couple high-powered rifles. The kid's eyes widened, and Sam knew he wasn't fast enough.

With a deep sigh, he fished out his wallet and gave him a twenty. "For twenty, you forget you saw me, the girl, and this car. Got it?"

"Oh yeah...I never saw a thing." The kid grinned, snapped the bill in his hands, turned on his heel and ran to the beach.

Sam got into the car and checked on his passenger. She was still out, and that bruise looked really nasty. He noted that a thin mark like a burn ran along her neck. He traced it, and she groaned. It looked as if someone tried to shoot her and the bullet grazed her neck. After nearly drowning, she was damn lucky to be alive.

The cell phone lying on the dash rang, startling Sam from his assessment. He picked it up on the third ring. "Yeah, Maddie. What's up? Have you heard from Mike yet?"

"No, I haven't, Sam. Obviously you haven't." Madelyn Westen sounded close to tears. "I called Jesse and Fiona, and neither of them have heard from Michael. I'm getting worried."

"Hey, Mike's been through a lot over the years and gotten himself out of plenty of scrapes. He'll be fine, Maddie. Really." He glanced at the woman beside him and took a breath. Maddie's was closer to the beach than the loft or his place. "Hey Maddie, do you mind if I stopped by? I, um...have a...a situation I may need some help with."

"Sure, Sam. You know my house is always open to you."

"Great. I'll be there in about five minutes."

Sam started the car, checked the woman's pulse one more time, and put the car in gear. She was breathing on her own and her pulse was a lot stronger, but that concussion worried him. And until he knew what was happening, who tried to kill her, and what circumstances put her in the water in an evening gown, he was not about to take her to the hospital and possibly put her life in danger. Most people would think a hospital was safe, but in his experience, Sam knew that sometimes it was better to take care of things at home. In this case, at Maddie's.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Sam carried the woman up to the back door and used his foot to bang on it.

"I'm coming!" Madelyn opened the door with a smart exclamation on her lips, but it died when she got an eyeful of the woman in Sam's arms dressed in a luxurious ivory lace gown that still dripped with saltwater. "Oh my god, what happened, Sam? Who is this?"

"Maddie, please let me get her settled somewhere first. Then I'll try to answer your questions."

"Of course!" She held open the door, allowed Sam to pass, and then closed and locked it behind him. She was learning fast. "Put her in the guest room." She stubbed out her cigarette, let out a large puff of smoke, and followed him into the room.

"She's still wet, Maddie."

"Don't worry about that. Let me take care of her, and then we'll talk, okay?"

"Sure." His rich brown eyes held concern, but he needn't have worried. Maddie would be gentle, he had no doubt about that.

She may be gentle with the girl, but as for Sam...she pushed him forcefully toward the door. "Go out there and have a beer or something. You can't stay here."

Sam threw up his hands and retreated. "Okay, okay! Jeez, you don't have to get violent." He closed the door soundly behind himself and made a beeline for the fridge. His favorite beer awaited inside. As he twisted off the top, he grinned. Maddie always took good care of Michael's friends.

Maddie emerged from the room and found Sam sitting at the dining room table. He was on the phone, his beer barely touched. "Yeah...yeah...no reports, huh?" His brow furrowed. "Okay, Danny, let me know if anything crosses your desk, okay?...Yeah, it may have something to do with something I'm working on." He laughed nervously. "Yeah, top secret, pal. Look, I owe you a beer..." He nodded. "Okay, ten beers. Keep running that tab, man. You know I'm good for it!" He closed his phone and set it on the table with a long sigh.

Maddie filled a glass with iced tea and sat across from him. "Okay, what the hell is going on here, Sam?" She lit a cigarette and sat waiting for his answer, glaring at him.

"I was on the phone with my buddy at the Miami PD. Nobody's put out a missing persons report on her. I'm gonna check with the FBI next, but I'm not holding out much hope." He sighed and ran a hand through his unruly, nearly dry hair. "I was fishing this morning, just minding my own business, and she was out there in a riptide. I almost lost her, Maddie." He swallowed and replayed the whole scene for her.

"So she has no memory of who she is?"

"That's about the size of it. When you got her out of those wet clothes, did you find anything?"

Maddie smirked. "That dress fit pretty tight. There was no place for anything besides her body. No ID, nothing."

"Tattoos? Did she have any?"

Madelyn shook her head. "I didn't see any. If you don't count that red mark on her neck. Sam, she needs a doctor."

"I don't want to risk taking her to the hospital and having the wrong people ID her. We could wind up getting her killed!" He stopped and controlled the rising volume of his voice. "She's safer here. Between the two of us, we have enough medical knowledge to handle this. Other than an x-ray, or maybe an MRI, the hospital wouldn't do much. You know that."

"She's going to need hydration."

"I can take care of that." Sam picked up his phone and dialed. After a few rings, he spoke. "Hey Fi. I need a favor."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Fiona arrived at Madelyn's with the requested medical gear. She still wore the scrubs and fake ID she used to sneak into the hospital and pinch the supplies Sam needed, but she also brought along a bag with her normal clothes. She had no intention of looking like this for longer than was necessary.

Sam greeted her at the door with an appreciative smile. "Thanks, Fi! It's nice to know I can count on you even if Mikey's not around!" He ushered her into the house with an arm around her shoulder, and she looked up at him as if he'd suddenly grown another head.

"Sam, are you okay?"

"I'm fine! We...I mean, I...have a little situation here, and I'm really glad you were able to help me out."

Fiona glanced around the room. Maddie sat at the table smoking, watching the exchange between the two. Sam, as soon as he finished speaking to Fiona, turned on the ball of his foot and hurried toward the guest room. Fiona was curious. She had intended to go into that room to change, but obviously something, or someone, was inside and in need of medical attention. A little tingle ran up her spine.

"Michael?" She breathed as she turned her concerned eyes on Maddie.

"No, honey. It's not Michael." Maddie smiled sympathetically. "Why don't you have a seat here and I'll tell you what Sam told me."

By the time Maddie finished telling Fiona the story of Sam's adventure on the sea, he came out of the room with purposeful strides and took a detour into the bathroom. He came out with a wet washcloth and disappeared into the room again.

"Do you think he needs some help?" Fiona looked after him with concern.

"He's probably done all he can. But let's go see anyway." Maddie stood and Fiona followed her into the bedroom.

Fiona watched with amazement at the tenderness Sam showed as he took charge of the mystery woman. He set up an IV on her and gently pressed the cool cloth to her forehead. He checked her pulse at the wrist and held her hand as he studied her. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head, because her own mind worked on the same questions. Who was she? Where did she come from? And why would anyone want such a beautiful woman dead?

There was no denying she was attractive. Her long, sandy blonde hair dried into tight curls that spread out on the pillow. By the fine lines around her mouth and the barely noticeable creases in her forehead, she looked to be in her 30s. She wore no jewelry, but Fiona noticed that the elegant gown draped over a chair screamed of wealth.

Sam noticed where her eyes landed. "She's rich, but that's about all we know. I'm thinking maybe she was on a yacht out in the waterways or the ocean when someone tried to kill her. Maybe she fell off the boat or jumped to avoid her attacker." He shook his head. "I just don't know until she can get her memory back, or we see something on the news."

"If someone was trying to kill her, no doubt we'll never hear about it that way."

"Agreed. I have some people checking on missing persons reports, police reports on kidnappings, stuff like that." As he spoke, Sam absently ran his thumb over the back of the woman's hand. Fiona had to wonder if he wasn't developing romantic feelings for her. If he was, that would be a new Sam Axe low. The woman was unconscious, unable to rebuff him. She shook her head, disgusted with herself for even thinking that. In the past few years, she'd learned a few things about this man. He loved the ladies, but he was always a gentleman unless a situation called for brute force.

Fiona sighed. "Madelyn, is there somewhere I can change?"

"Sure, Fiona. You can use Michael's old room."

When she returned, she found Maddie entering the bedroom with a shallow bowl of ice water that she laid on the nightstand on the side where Sam sat. He dipped the cloth into the water, wrung it out, and placed it on his patient's forehead.

"She's still out?"

He nodded and glanced at Fiona. "Yeah." He cocked a grin at her. "That outfit suits you much better."

Despite herself, Fiona smiled, flattered that he noticed. "Thank you, Sam." She approached the bed and picked up the dress from the chair, searching it for clues. "Well, hello."

"What? What did you find, Fi?"

Fiona turned and held the garment so Sam could see the customized label inside. "See this?"

"Yeah, it's a label. So what?"

"This dress was made custom, most likely, at Mia Couture. I know where this shop is." Fiona grinned. "I can take the dress in and maybe find out who ordered it, at the very least. With luck, it will be our mystery woman."

"Brilliant, Fi! Let me know what you find out."

"I will." She draped the dress over her arm. "Good luck with sleeping beauty."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Fiona carefully rolled up the fine garment and stuffed it into her bag. It wouldn't do to just waltz into Mia Couture waving the thing around if someone was looking for the woman. Instead, she entered the boutique posing as a customer until the shop was clear of other patrons.

"Madamoiselle, may I help you?" A short woman with dark hair peppered with gray stepped up beside Fiona as she examined a deep red gown made of silk. She spoke with a distinct French accent that Fiona determined had to be real. "You have such exquisite taste! That would look fabulous on you!"

"Thank you," Fiona smiled and put the gown back onto the hook on the wall, where it hung by a beautiful filigree hanger. "I'm actually not here to buy today. I have a couple of questions about a gown. You are Mia, are you not?"

"Oui. I would be happy to answer any questions you have regarding any of my gowns."

"Thank you. This is the one." Fiona pulled out the ivory lace gown and let it unfurl before her.

Mia's eyes bugged as she eyed it up and down. "Oh my, where did you get this?"

"A...friend...Can you tell me who originally bought it?"

"Oh, no no, Mademoiselle. We pride ourselves on keeping our clientele's identities secret."

Fiona frowned. "I was afraid you'd say that. Please, this may be a matter of...life or death."

"Death?" The older woman turned white and her hand fluttered to her throat. "Did something happen to Madame Romana?"

"What does Madame Romana look like?" Fiona hesitated to reveal any information, but this was the point where she had to say something to gain the woman's confidence. "My friend found a woman on the beach this morning. We don't know who she is..."

"She is a beautiful woman. Tall, fine bone structure, voluminous honey brown hair with striking blue eyes."

"Not sandy blonde?"

"No, Mademoiselle."

"I'm afraid that we aren't talking about the same woman. There must be some mistake."

"No mistake, Madame Romana Roche is one of my best customers. Whenever her husband comes to Miami on their yacht, she is by his side. They are inseparable. He often comes into the shop with her and helps her pick out a wardrobe." Mia paused and shook her head. "I...I've told you too much. I hope that Madame Roche can forgive me."

"If it saves her life, I'm sure she will appreciate it. Thank you, Madame Mia." Fiona pushed the gown back into her bag and turned to leave.

"Wait! The woman you found...she was wearing this dress?"

"Yes."

"Oh dear. Please, whatever you do, do not wash it. It must be dry cleaned!" She handed Fiona a card. "Take it to Ricardo. He dry cleans all my customers' clothes."

Fiona took the card and smiled. "Thank you, Madame Mia. I will be sure to give Ricardo my business as well." Fiona left the shop, glanced casually to her left and right to make sure she didn't have a tail, and walked to her car as if she were out on a shopping jaunt. In the car, she dropped the bag onto the seat and tucked the card into a pocket. She needed to get back to Maddie's, take a picture of the woman, and track down this lead.

Fiona pulled up to Maddie's garage and parked behind Sam's car. She took the dress with her and entered the house through the back door.

"Hey Fi, did you find out anything?" Sam stood in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of ice tea. Fiona's eyebrow went up.

"Is she okay?"

Sam stopped pouring and put the pitcher back into the refrigerator. He stood in the middle of the room, nervously swirling the ice in his glass. "Well, she hasn't come to since I brought her here, if that's what you're asking. And she's running a slight fever." He hesitated. "While I was checking her out, I found a wound on her leg. Not sure how it happened, but I suspect it's infected, and the infection is causing her temp to rise."

"If she's that ill, Sam..."

"I know, we're gonna have to take her to the hospital. Unless..."

Fiona knew exactly what Sam was thinking, and she didn't like it one bit. "No, Sam. We can't drag Campbell into this. I promised him we would never use him again!"

"But we're not 'using' him. He'd only be doing his job." Sam held his hands out in appeal. "Come on, Fi. You know I'm right."

She blew out a heavy breath that stirred the tendrils that framed one side of her face. "Okay...okay. I'll give him a call. Hopefully he hasn't changed his number because of me!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Sam answered the door with a warm grin and a handshake. "Hi, Campbell! Long time no see! Thanks for coming." He ushered the younger man inside. "You want something to drink? Maddie's got some ice tea, lemonade..."

"No thank you, Sam. Where's Fiona?"

"She's in here with our...patient." Sam led him into the bedroom. "She's been unconscious for about three hours now, and sometimes she stirs like she's coming out of it, but she doesn't quite do it. Her temp's up to 102. As you can see, we did what we could for her."

"What's her name?"

"Uh...we don't know."

Campbell glanced at Sam and gave him a look that said he doubted his answer. "Really?"

"Really. It's a long story. Just trust us here, okay?"

"Yeah, right." He let out a huff. "Whatever. I'm just here to do a job, but I'll need to know something about her. Do you know if she has any allergies?"

Sam shook his head. "She barely spoke a dozen words to me before she lost consciousness. Allergies, blood type, none of that came up in the conversation." He sat in the chair to her left and kept his eye on Campbell. The paramedic's words made him second guess himself, wondering if they should have just taken her to the hospital, but part of him knew it was best to follow his instincts.

"Okay, well, I'll just have to work blind then." He wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm and plugged the stethoscope into his ears. "But my advice would be to call an ambulance. I'm off the clock here, so I don't have proper transport for her."

"Let's take it one step at a time, okay?"

Campbell shook his head and went to work. In the meantime, Fiona and Maddie waited in the dining room, and Sam kept watch beside the bed. As the minutes passed and Campbell continued to examine the woman, Sam's foot began to jiggle nervously.

"Well?"

"This leg is infected, and I'll do what I can to clean it up, but it looks like you've already done a pretty good job. So the only thing left is to get her to a doctor..." He glanced up at Sam. "And he can prescribe some antibiotics."

"Campbell...I don't think taking her to the hospital is the best plan here," Sam responded, his voice low. "I think someone was trying to kill her, and whether they threw her into the ocean or she jumped off a boat, she was nearly drowned when I found her. She was in danger wherever she was, and I don't want to accidentally put her in more danger. Understand?"

"She can go in as a Jane Doe. No one will ever know."

Sam shook his head. "I wouldn't count on that."

"You're too paranoid. I think you've been spending too much time with Michael Westen and Fiona."

"Maybe, but they're my best friends, and they've never been wrong. Fi's agreed with me that this is our safest bet to keep her here."

Sam knew that Campbell still had feelings for Fiona, no matter what happened between them. He knew it the moment the younger man asked where Fiona was, and now, as he sat across from Sam, his determination was crumbling.

"If she's got a serious concussion..." He tried one last protest.

"We'll take responsibility for whatever happens to her. You know that."

Campbell nodded and sighed in reluctance. "Okay. I'll leave some supplies here, but I'm also giving you the number of a friend of mine." He scribbled on a page in a small notebook, ripped it out, and handed it to Sam. "He's a doctor, and at one time he had something to do with the government. It's all pretty hush hush. I'm sure he'd keep quiet if you ask him to."

"So he makes house calls?"

"Yeah." Campbell nodded. "It'll cost you, though."

"No problem."

Campbell stood, collected his things, and turned to leave. "Be careful, Sam. And watch Fiona for me, okay?"

The corner of Sam's mouth tipped up into a smile as he stood and shook his hand. "Sure thing, Campbell. Thanks for coming."

After Campbell left, they debated the wisdom of calling the doctor. Fiona was adamant that the risk was too great, even if Campbell recommended the man.

"I say we wait a little longer and if she gets worse, then we call," Sam threw in his opinion.

"I'm worried about her," Maddie replied and stubbed out her cigarette. "Waiting could make things worse. If she has any bleeding on the brain, it would build up pressure and cause damage. Not to mention that leg. Campbell said it's infected." She pierced Sam with her gaze. "Do you really want to be responsible for that?"

Sam shifted in his chair and broke away from Maddie's stare, then glanced at Fiona. "She's got a point, Fi."

Fiona looked deep in thought. "I still don't like it. I say we wait another couple of hours, and if she doesn't come to by then, we call."

"Two hours, Maddie."

"Sam..." Maddie shook her head. "Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Maddie made baloney sandwiches for lunch, but Sam barely touched his. He kept vigil beside the woman's bed, talking to her, begging her at times to wake up. Fiona left to check on the lead with the dry cleaner. If the mystery woman was a customer at the boutique, and Mia recommended all her clients go to Ricardo, chances were good that the employees at the dry cleaner would know who she was.

The bell on the door jingled as she entered the small shop in South Beach. She glanced around, surprised at the chic stuffed chairs in the waiting area and the tasteful colors decorating the walls. A short man with a well-trimmed goatee and cropped black hair that stood up in spikes smiled at her. He was dressed in designer clothes that normally would look out of place in a dry cleaner's shop, but this place was obviously not your common dry cleaners. They catered to the well-to-do.

"Good afternoon, my name is Ricardo." His smile widened. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of you visiting my shop before."

"No, you haven't," Fiona smiled and approached the counter. "I'm dropping something off for a friend. She said that I should bring it here and that you would know what to do with it."

"And who is your friend, Miss..."

Fiona pulled the dress from her bag and laid it on the counter, watching his reaction as it spilled across the marble surface. He looked quite stunned to see it.

"Ms. Romana's dress. I would recognize it anywhere! Such an exquisite piece!"

"Yes, she...um...had an accident, and it was exposed to salt water."

"Oh dear! Please, let me take this in back and assign someone to clean it immediately! Otherwise, it will be ruined!" Ricardo draped it carefully over his forearm and hustled through the swinging doors. While she waited, Fiona spied someone watching her from an office off to the side. She decided to approach her.

"Hello. I wonder if you could help me."

"I will do my best, Miss. What is it?"

"Do you by any chance know this woman? Is this Ms. Romana?" She held up a picture of the mystery woman that she snapped on her phone before leaving Maddie's.

The clerk squinted at it for a moment, shook her head, and then squinted again. "I...I'm sorry, Miss. That isn't Ms. Romana. That's her personal assistant."

"Her personal assistant? Are you sure?"

The woman nodded. "I would know her anywhere."

"What is her name?"

"Yvette...that's all I know, just Yvette." She heard a sound and suddenly her eyes widened. "Miss, if I were you I would get out of here. Now."

Fiona glanced toward the back of the office where a door was partially opened to the dry cleaning processing area. She saw Ricardo speaking with another man, and it didn't look as if their conversation was a friendly one. The taller man had a Sig Sauer tucked into the waistband of his designer trousers.

Turning a friendly grin on her informant, Fiona replied. "Why yes, I do have other places to be. Thank you very much for the information."

She turned on her wedge sandal and hurried out of the building. As she got into her car, she heard voices raised in anger. With no time to lose, she started the car, jammed it into reverse, and pealed out of the parking lot before Ricardo and his friend tumbled out of the front door with guns raised toward her. Just then Fiona passed a police car, and she watched in her rearview mirror to see them tuck the weapons away before the cop spied them. It wasn't every day that she got help from Miami's finest, and she couldn't help but grin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Fiona checked her rearview mirror all the way to Maddie's to make sure she wasn't being tailed. When she got close, she dialed Sam's phone and was pleased that he answered on the first ring.

"Fi. Is everything okay?"

"Maybe, maybe not. Sam, I'm almost to Maddie's. When I get there, I need to park my car in the garage."

"You got it, sister. I'll be waiting for you to pull up."

She slipped her phone into her purse and counted down the miles until she turned the last corner. Sam sat in his vehicle with the engine running. The garage door was open. She swung into the driveway and pulled inside, and before she had the engine off, Maddie and Jesse were closing the doors. Sam parked his car in front of the garage.

"Okay, what's going on, Fi?" Sam asked her as she came out into the back yard.

"Jesse! It's nice to see you." She ignored the irritation in Sam's voice. "I thought you were busy."

"Just got off an assignment and Maddie called me, told me that Sam picked up something really...unique...while out fishing this morning. She thought maybe I could help."

Sam blocked the door into the house. "I've already briefed Jesse on what we know, so it'd be nice if you'd tell us why you're watching your back. And where's the dress?"

"Ricardo has it. Apparently, my bringing the dress into his shop raised some red flags." Fiona explained as she eyed their surroundings warily and pushed against Sam's chest to move him aside. She entered the house and everyone followed. "While he was having a little discussion with an armed man, I got a name for our mystery woman." In the kitchen, she turned and faced the small group gathered there. "Her name is Yvette. The woman I spoke with didn't know her last name, just that her name was Yvette, and she was a personal assistant or something to a Ms. Romana Roche."

"Roche... oh crap," Sam muttered.

"Is that ringing a bell, Sam?" Jesse turned and looked Sam in the eye.

"Yeah. I haven't heard that name in years, but I'd bet it's the same guy. Frederick Roche, he's a very wealthy man, and a total scumbag. He's made a lot of his money the old fashioned way...illegally. But he's good at what he does, and no one has ever been able to catch him in the act. His network of little guys do the dirty work for him, and it's such a complex net that nothing ever goes sideways on him."

"And you know about this because..." Jesse prompted.

"He was suspected of stealing some smart bombs from the U.S. back in my SEAL days, and I was part of a team that was supposed to try to stop him from getting them. We..." He looked uncomfortable. "Well, that's all classified yet, so I can't talk about it. Let's just say we didn't get 100% satisfaction on our mission."

"So what does this all have to do with...Yvette," Maddie asked with frustration in her tone.

"Maybe only Yvette knows that," Sam replied with a shrug. "One thing's for sure, she's not going to the hospital unless it's the very last of the very last resorts."

"Has she improved at all," Fiona asked with a hopeful lift to her voice.

"She seems to be fighting her way back to consciousness." Sam poured a glass of ice tea and headed for the bedroom. "Now that I'm armed with her name, maybe I can use it to help her wake up!"

It was dark in the room when Yvette awoke. She heard the sound of even breathing, but it wasn't coming from her. Her own came in quick short bursts registering her fear, and she tried to get her bearings. She expected the room to be rocking as if they were on the undulating waves of the ocean, but she didn't know why. She couldn't remember anything except that the last time she was awake, she was drowning, terrified, until a man appeared. He had a scruffy but kind face, and he was adamant about making sure she was safe. Carefully, she sat up. The mattress shifted with her weight, and a spring creaked. She cringed. A second later as she tried to flip the covers back and get out of bed, a small bedside light clicked on and she stared in shock at the face that stared back. A screech of panic stopped abruptly in her sore throat. His hand clasped around her upper arm, but at the sight of her frightened expression, his own expression softened and he let her go.

"You really shouldn't be up," he spoke softly.

Yvette sat frozen in place, and he smiled in a way that she suspected disarmed a lot of women. He was older and not very well groomed, but she was charmed nonetheless. Her muscles relaxed and she leaned into the hand he held behind her back as he helped her lay down again.

"I...I guess you're right. I feel a bit lightheaded."

"You should. You have a concussion, and you've been out for..." He stopped and consulted his watch. "Wow, almost 15 hours. We were getting pretty worried about you, Yvette."

"Yvette," she whispered. "Is...is that my name?"

He frowned. "You still don't remember anything?"

"No. I'm sorry, I don't." She glanced around the small sphere of the room that the light illuminated. Her gaze shifted to the line running into her arm. "Am I in a hospital?"

"You're in my friend's house. Well, actually, it's his mom's house. Don't worry, you're safe here." He smiled. "My name's Sam. Sam Axe."

A spark of recognition hit her features, and she gasped as she reached for the lapel of his clean shirt and held on weakly. "I remember you! You said you wouldn't leave me behind." Her eyes filled with tears. "And you didn't. You saved me. Thank you, Mr. Axe."

Sam grinned, uncomfortable with the formality. "You can call me Sam." He covered her hand with his and gently pried it away before laying it on the mattress.

"Oh, okay...Sam." Her brow furrowed. "For some reason, that seems strange to me, addressing someone by their Christian name."

"You did it at the beach, when..." He shook his head. "Never mind. Do you remember where you're from, Yvette? You have that sort of English accent, but a French name."

"How do you know my name is Yvette?"

"Another friend of mine, Fiona, did some digging with the little bit of evidence we had and she was told your name was Yvette." He paused, unsure of how much to reveal without upsetting her. "I think we better just leave it at that for now. You're suffering from a concussion, so you're going to be confused for a little while. We don't want to make it any worse." He reached toward her forehead, and she unconsciously flinched. He frowned and pulled away. "I'm not going to hurt you. You can trust me."

"I...I'm sorry. I wish I knew why I was...am...so scared." She chuckled, an inconsistent exhalation of breath giving away her unease. "But I shouldn't be afraid of you. That much I know." She turned her blue eyes up to him, conveying her trust.

Sam touched her forehead with his palm. "You had a fever earlier, but you feel cooler now. That's a good thing. Are you in any pain?"

"My word, I've got a splitting headache right now!"

He let out a soft, short sound of laughter. "I can imagine. I can give you something for that. Hang on, I'll be right back." He stood, left the bedroom and returned before Yvette could begin to panic. He held a glass in one hand and the other was out flat, palm up, bearing two capsules. "Okay, you can take these and wash 'em down with this. Can you sit up by yourself?"

She nodded and pushed herself up slowly. "The room is spinning, Sam."

"Okay, let's make this quick, then." He set the glass down on the nightstand, put his arm around her shoulders, and propped her up against the headboard. Then he retrieved the glass, dropped the pills into her outstretched hand, and gave her the glass after she threw the pills into her open mouth. She drained half the glass, and Sam took it and placed it back on the stand. "You can drink the rest later if your stomach keeps those down."

"I take it you've dealt with concussions before?"

He grinned. "Yeah, you could say that. Now, why don't you lay back down and try to get some more rest? I'll still be here in the morning."

"Okay. Maybe I'll remember something tomorrow."

"That sure would be great, Yvette. Otherwise, Fiona and Jesse will be out combing the streets for more intel."

"Friends of yours, Sam?" She pulled the covers up to her chin as she settled into the mattress.

"Yep. Great friends, Yvette."

"Tell them that I'm grateful for their assistance." She yawned and closed her eyes, and in no time at all she was asleep, and Sam could rest easy.

"They'll just be glad that you're going to be okay." He spoke the words, placed a protective hand on her shoulder, and crossed his ankles on the edge of the bed. He was beat and had drifted off sometime during the night, until Yvette awoke. The heavy cloak of sleep overtook him again, and he had no trouble falling into it despite sitting in the uncomfortable chair and the soft light shining from the lamp.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Yvette's memory was no better the next day, but her concussion was definitely improving. She awoke feeling refreshed and her headache was gone. Fiona made breakfast and delivered a tray containing a fried egg and toast, with a small glass of milk to wash it down. They didn't want to shock her system with too much at once. She asked them for information, everything they knew, hoping it would jog her memory. But no one would tell her anything. She was afraid that maybe they weren't all they appeared, and that they were trying to hold her captive. After breakfast, she feigned sleep. Not long after, she heard Fiona's heels on the floor.

"Sam, we need to talk about..." Her voice turned to a whisper. "Yvette. Jesse might have something on her."

"Okay." He dropped his feet on the floor and followed her out of the room, but not before touching her forehead and the pulse point at her wrist.

"How is she doing?"

"Getting stronger, and I think her temperature's back to normal." He pulled the door closed, but not so far that the latch clicked.

Yvette listened to the sound of chairs scraping on the floor, objects being placed on the table, and soft voices speaking. She carefully pulled herself to the side of the bed where the IV was tacked to the wall with a nail. She unhooked it and carried it with her as she tiptoed to the door to eavesdrop.

Sam spoke first. "Okay Jess, what'd you find on Yvette?"

"I took that picture Fiona snapped and was able to match her up with some government records. Her name is Yvette McCain, and she's a native of Wales, and her family lived in London for awhile, but they moved here to the States when she was a young child."

"Are they citizens," Fiona asked.

"I didn't find anything that indicated they were. Her parents' last known location was Cambridge, Massachusetts, and that they were at one time under the employ of one Leonardo Roche, brother of Frederick Roche. Then, a couple of years ago, they seemed to just drop off the map."

Maddie broke in. "Do you think they were employed at will, or..."

"Slaves," Jesse finished her question. "That I don't know. It just seems awfully interesting that the parents and daughter would all be employed by the same family."

"Smells fishy to me," Sam declared as he went through the small sheaf of papers that Jesse dropped on the table when they sat down. "Knowing what I do about Freddie Roche, I'm thinking that this wasn't a mutually agreed upon arrangement."

"You were right, Sam. The guy's a scumbag," Fiona ground out through her teeth. "Where can we find him?"

"His yacht, the Lorelei, hasn't been seen for a couple weeks. It's usually moored up here in Miami, and he has a house on Fisher Island, but it's been empty for at least a month."

"Empty, as in unoccupied, or empty as in cleaned out," Sam asked.

"Cleaned out. I swung by and checked on it. The security gate was wide open, and there wasn't a single person on the property." Jesse crossed his arms and his brow furrowed. "We could go round and round all day investigating this guy, but it's going to get us nowhere. Somewhere in that girl's mind is locked up the set of circumstances that forced her into that ocean. Without that, I don't know how much more we can do."

"If we could find out what she was doing there, maybe it would help her remember. It sounds like she needs help, but until we get the whole story, we won't know what kind of help she needs." Sam ran a hand through his hair. "There's gotta be more we can investigate."

From her hiding place behind the door, Yvette breathed a sigh of relief. She was glad that Sam and his friends weren't holding her for any other reason than to keep her safe. They wanted to help, and Sam especially seemed adamant about finding the information that could set her free. She turned on her heel and moved toward the bed, but a wave of nausea and dizziness overtook her, and she felt herself falling with nothing to stop her.

Everyone heard the thump in the bedroom, Jesse and Sam flew out of their chairs, and arrived at the door simultaneously. Jesse pushed it aside and looked down at Yvette. "She must have heard everything."

"Yeah, well, there's nothing we can do about that." Sam picked her up from the floor and gently laid her in the bed. He replaced the IV bag on the wall and settled her under the covers. "Jesse, we need more information. Anything you can find. Not just to get Yvette's memory back, but to make sure we know how to protect her."

"I'll see what I can do."

The next time Yvette regained consciousness, Fiona was sitting beside her bed reading a magazine. Yvette craned her neck to see the title: Guns & Ammo. Strange choice for a woman, she thought. Fiona heard the sheets rustle, and immediately she dropped the magazine and smiled at her.

"Welcome back, Yvette. You took quite a nasty tumble onto the floor."

"I know. Look, I'm sorry, I wouldn't have gotten out of bed if someone would have just been honest with me about what was going on."

"We didn't want to worry you needlessly." Fiona's voice was soft, empathetic. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I want to be upright for awhile. But I can't very well do that tied up to this thing." She flopped her hand and the line followed her movements through the air.

"I think we can probably take that off you now." Fiona got out of her chair. "I'll be right back with some supplies."

"Where's Sam?"

Fiona stopped at the door and turned. "He's out with Jesse checking on some information. They'll be back soon."

When Fiona returned, she freed Yvette from the IV line and bandaged the entry point. Then, with reluctance she took Yvette's hand and got her on her feet. "Well, you're a little unsteady, but once we get some lunch into you, maybe that will go away." She smiled sweetly. "I think you're about my size. I brought some extra things from my apartment. Why don't we see if anything fits you?"

Yvette's grin matched Fiona's. "Thank you, Fiona! I wish I knew why you were being so nice to me when I don't even know you."

Fiona's serious gaze locked on her. "Yvette, it's just what we do. We help people. And it seems that you need a lot of it, so we'll be there to see this through."

"I don't know if I have any best friends, but if I do, I certainly hope they are as wonderful as all of you!" She impulsively hugged her. "Thank you!"

Fiona gracefully pried herself away from Yvette and smiled. "You're very welcome. Now, let's see about getting you dressed. Maddie washed your things, and the dress...well, we won't worry about that right now. I think this outfit would look great on you." She held up a bright blue slinky top and miniskirt combination. "It brings out the color in your eyes."

"Anything would be fine, Fiona. I'm just grateful for the assistance."

Lunch went down without a hitch and Yvette felt well enough to sit in the sunroom and peruse the magazines Maddie had scattered on the coffee table. Fiona kept one eye on her own magazine and one eye on the traffic that passed the house. She had Yvette sitting so that she wouldn't be visible from the road, just in case the people who wanted her dead would happen to come trolling for her. The back door slammed and the sound of feet got her attention.

"Ma?"

"Michael!" Fiona jumped up from her seat and rushed through the living and dining rooms to meet him on the kitchen threshold. "Michael, you're back!" She launched herself into his arms and kissed him deeply. His arms slipped around her and he kissed her with equal passion, until he saw someone standing behind her just a few feet away.

Michael whispered into Fiona's ear as he gently disengaged himself from her grasp. "Fi, there's a strange woman watching us."

"Oh, that's just Yvette." She smiled and turned out of his hands, reached for Yvette and pulled her into their circle. "Yvette, this is Michael Westen, Maddie's son. Michael, this is Yvette McCain. Sam rescued her from a riptide yesterday morning, and now we're trying to find out what we can about her and why she wound up nearly drowned in the ocean, wearing another woman's dress."

"Okay, Fi, you're going to have to rewind all that and start from the beginning." Michael's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"No problem. Hopefully Jesse and Sam will be back soon and they can fill us in even more." She led them to the table and sat. As she folded her hands on the surface, she added, "I would ask you where you've been the past month, but I know you won't be able to tell me. No worries. Right now, you just need to know everything we know about Yvette."

After Fiona finished explaining, Michael attempted to ask Yvette questions, but she still couldn't remember anything other than her rescue and the events that occurred afterward while she was conscious. He let out a breath and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I could make some calls, but I have this feeling that the CIA isn't going to know any more than you already do."

They all sat up straighter at the sound of car doors slamming. Fiona mentally counted them, and it was more than two. Her eyes widened, and she ducked toward the corner where she kept her things. A moment later, she had an automatic handgun in her grip. Michael pulled one from the back of his waistband as he stood.

"Yvette, you better get in the bedroom," he ordered her calmly and with a cool voice.

Yvette didn't know Michael, but by the tone of his voice, she realized it was in her best interest to listen to him. She dashed for the room and closed the door.

"Just stay in there and hide until we tell you it's okay to come out. Understood?"

"Yes." Her voice sounded small and frightened on the other side.

"Fi, back or front?"

"Back."

"Okay, I'll get the front."

The plan changed the moment the back door opened. "Mikey? You here?"

Michael and Fiona looked at each other and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Simultaneously they put their safeties on. "I'm here, Sam. Jeez, we thought you were someone else."

Sam peered around the shelter of the refrigerator in the kitchen and smiled at Michael's guarded stance. "I suppose I should have called, but I didn't know you'd be here. It's good to see you again, brother!" He entered the dining room and the two shared a brief man hug.

Jesse joined the group in the kitchen and gave Michael a warm greeting. "Hey, Michael! It's good to see you back in one piece. You wouldn't believe what you've been missing!"

"Fiona filled me in on Yvette," Michael answered with a small smile. "Speaking of which..."

"Where is she?" Sam's eyes were wide as he searched the area. "Bedroom?"

"Yeah. We didn't know who was coming. We heard three car doors..."

"Really? It was just the two of us...oh yeah, your mom's neighbor came home the same time as we did. That's what you heard." Sam crossed the short distance to the door, opened it, and poked his head inside. "Yvette, you can come out now."

"It's safe?"

"Perfectly safe. Come on." Sam held out his hand and beckoned her. She moved from the closet and crossed the room in two steps, launching herself into Sam's chest as she wrapped her arms around him.

"I was so scared! I wish I could just remember and help you solve this mystery so I don't have to be afraid anymore!"

"It's okay. We may have filled in some of the blanks. Come on out here and we'll go over what we found."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Jesse and I did some digging down at the marina where the Lorelei is usually moored. We didn't come up with anything juicy, although when we showed Yvette's picture around, people there knew her." He glanced at Yvette. "From what we gathered, you are definitely Mrs. Roche's personal assistant, and that she was practically joined at the hip with you."

"Now, we know that the Lorelei left the marina a couple of weeks ago, in the middle of the night," Jesse continued. "We were lucky to find the night watchman, and he said Mr. Roche was in quite a hurry to get away. Not long after they left, a fishing boat headed out to sea, and he just figured they were doing some night fishing. Most likely they were in pursuit."

"But that's just speculation, because we haven't been able to fill in the holes from then until yesterday. It shouldn't have taken them two weeks to catch up to the Lorelei." Sam ran a hand across his stubble. "I've got a Coast Guard buddy looking into their reports, see if anything pops up about the Lorelei."

"I'm sorry that I can't be of any help," Yvette spoke softly as she fought the tears that flooded her eyes. "I...I would do anything to help Ms. Romana. She's my friend."

Sam raised his head and stared at her. "Did you hear what you just said? 'She's my friend.'"

"Am I starting to remember things?" A light shone in Yvette's features as she suddenly realized what Sam was getting at.

"Maybe. But don't force it. You'll only frustrate yourself," Michael urged her with a small smile. "I know, I've been there."

Yvette's shoulders relaxed as she sat back in her chair. "I hope this is a good sign, because I really feel bad that I may be putting you all in danger, and we don't know why."

"It's okay. We can handle this." Michael pushed his chair away from the table and stood. "I'm going to go into headquarters and see if I can find out more on Frederick Roche. If this guy is up to another heist, maybe there's some chatter in international channels."

"Thanks a lot, Mike. We appreciate it."

"No problem, Sam. I just got out of there after two days of debriefing, but hey...maybe catching them by surprise will be a good thing."

After Michael left, Sam sat studying Yvette until she squirmed in her seat. He asked, "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes. I just...I'm worried, that's all."

"You shouldn't be. We've got you covered," Fiona reassured with a smile. "No one will hurt you as long as you're under our watch."

"I'm more worried about Ms. Romana." Her brow creased. "I can't help thinking that I'm on the brink of remembering something, and it's so hard to not force it." She shook her head in frustration.

"Hey, come on." Sam stood and cupped her elbow with his hand as she followed his lead and stood. "Let's go sit on the couch, relax, and just think about something else for awhile, okay?"

"Okay." She sat beside him on the couch, turned to face him and asked, "How did you come to have such wonderful friends?"

Sam grinned. "That's a long story, and it'll probably bore you."

"No, it wouldn't. It would certainly help to keep my mind off my own troubles."

"I suppose it would." He took a breath and began. "I met Mike first, back when I was a SEAL and he was a covert op with the CIA..."

Yvette leaned into the back of the couch and his pleasant baritone lulled her off to sleep before he could finish his story. Not that it was a boring tale. It was just that her body needed rest, and although her leg was much better that day, the infection was still taking its toll.

Sam stopped speaking when a soft snore came out of her. He smiled, got up off the couch, and rearranged her body so she lay on it with her head on a throw pillow. He draped an afghan over her and went to the kitchen for something to drink.

Two days later, they had little to show for their investigation. Fortunately, bits and pieces of Yvette's memory were coming back. She recalled more details of her relationship with Romana Roche and how much she enjoyed working for her. Their employer-employee relationship had turned into a mutual respect and friendship. Romana was a lonely woman, kept under a ruthless man's thumb. Yvette was the only contact she had with the outside world.

Sam came in the back door with a bag of groceries and found her sitting at the cafe table in the kitchen, crying over her coffee. "Hey, Yvette, what's the matter?"

"Morning, Sam." She sniffled and swiped at her eyes and nose in a most unladylike fashion. "I was just thinking about Romana. I remember so much about her now. I know what a terrible life she leads, and how she wanted to get away."

He set the bags on the counter and joined her at the table. "Get away?"

"Yes. I remember the night before you found me, she spoke to me about leaving Frederick. But she was so afraid and didn't know how to go about it. She said when we reached Freeport, she would try to make a break for it, and she wanted my help." She shook her head. "But I didn't know how I could help her." She began to cry softly, and Sam covered her hand with his.

"Shh, it's okay. Can you tell me what happened after that?"

"I think...I think that Mr. Roche must have had some kind of listening device in her chambers." Her eyes widened at the revelation.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because...oh Sam, I remember it so clearly! After we talked and Romana went to bed, I stayed up for awhile putting her things away in her closet. She had bought some new dresses at Mia Couture, and she asked me to find room for them." She paused and Sam gently urged her with a squeeze of her hand. "She gave me some of her older things. That dress...I was just trying it on to see if it really fit, because it was the most exquisite thing I'd ever seen." She looked down into her empty coffee cup.

Sam took the cue, gave her a moment to digest all her newfound memories, and brought the coffee pot to the table to pour her another cup.

"Thanks, Sam." She curled her hands around it and soaked in the warmth even though it was plenty warm in the house.

Sam poured himself a cup and sat down again. "So now we know how you wound up wearing that dress. But do you remember what happened after you put it on?"

"I was in the dressing room and I heard someone enter the suite. Heavy footfalls. It wasn't Mr. Roche." She took a sip of coffee. "I turned off the light and hid in among the clothes. Then I heard rustling noises, and Romana screamed...oh my...I couldn't stay there, because I was sure that they were killing her with the way she cried out! I surprised them and one of them shot at me. I thought he hit me, but I reached up..." She placed her hand on the fading graze on her neck. "It was bleeding, but not as if I had actually been shot. So I ran." New tears fell from her eyes, rolled down her cheeks, and splattered onto the table as her eyes locked with Sam's. "I left her behind to die! What kind of friend does that?"

"There's nothing you could have done, Yvette. She was probably already dead before you came out of that room, if they were any good. And considering what we know about Roche and his men, they were most likely experienced killers." As he spoke soothing words, he grasped her hand in both of his in an attempt to massage away the tension. "You wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't run. And we never would have had the chance to meet you."

Yvette hung her head for a moment before looking up into his warm eyes. "Thank you, Sam. I thank God that I wound up in your care." She sniffled. "After I ran, one of those goons chased me. I slipped, on the hem of the dress, I think, and fell. He grabbed me by the ankle and was going to do God knows what. He had a knife...it was stained with blood...Romana's I would guess. He slashed at me, but I kicked him with my other foot. He cut the dress, I think. I felt the blade against my thigh.

"I didn't even stop to see if he cut me. I just kicked him hard again, right in the face, and he rolled away. I got up, picked up my skirt and ran for the stern. I knew they kept a lifeboat there."

"That was a smart move."

She nodded. "Except for the fact that I got there and another one of Mr. Roche's men tackled me. He slammed my head on the deck and I saw stars. But somehow I managed to stay conscious and I kneed him in his...um..." She blushed, waved a hand in the air and continued. "Anyway, I was able to get to the lifeboat. I tried to unlatch it and get it into the sea, but that horrible man was on me again. We struggled, and...I don't know how I managed it, but I got him off me, and he fell...he fell into the water."

"Did you get away then?"

"Yes. I unhooked the lifeboat, got in, and it dropped into the sea. I almost fell out of it and it nearly capsized, but I hung on and it righted itself. I didn't know how to start the motor, so I grabbed a paddle and started paddling away from the yacht. More men came on deck and shot at me. They hit the inflated side, and it sank right out from under me." She smiled, a devious look on her face. "Then I pretended to go down with it. I just hung on where they must not have been able to see me, and eventually they gave up.

"I heard Mr. Roche say I wasn't worth it and that they had a mess on board to clean up. Shortly after that, I heard a splash and the yacht's engines started up again. I think...they threw Romana into the ocean, but I couldn't find her body." Her tears renewed themselves. "I was alone, and the waves were getting higher and higher... I just hung onto that boat as long as I could, but when the air was completely gone and it was no longer able to hold me up, I didn't know what to do except lie on my back and wait for the inevitable."

"So you just rode the waves all the way back to Miami?"

"Apparently." A small smile spread across her face. "And you found me."

"Wow."

"You believe me, don't you?"

At first, Sam wasn't sure what to make of her story. But the look of complete innocence and her answers to more of his questions led him to believe that she was telling the truth. "I'm glad you got your memory back."

Yvette's smile widened. "Now if only I knew what I'm supposed to do next."

"I don't know. I guess that's up to you." He hesitated before asking one more question. "Do you know what happened to your parents?"

"No. The last time I saw them was in the summer of '07. That's when I started working for Romana. Do you know where they are?"

"No, I'm sorry. Our investigation led to a dead end on them."

"Dead end." She pondered the significance of those words after the death of her friend. "If they're...gone...I'm all alone."

"No you're not. You've got friends."

She leaned across the table and gave him a kiss on his scruffy cheek. "Thank you, Sam."

Given the information from Yvette's restored memory, Michael, Sam and Jesse were able to piece together more information and discover that the Lorelei was docked at a private island in the Bahamas. Sam itched to go out there with his friends and take care of this guy themselves, but with no body of proof other than Yvette's testimony, they couldn't very well get him on murder. The best they could do was inform the Bahamian government, as well as the American intelligence community, and let them do what they would with the information. In the meantime, until things cooled down and Roche forgot about Yvette, she needed protection.

"She can stay here with me," Maddie announced with a grin. "I'm really starting to love her. She's like the daughter I never had." Maddie patted Yvette's hand with affection.

"Thank you, Madelyn. I don't know what to say."

"First of all, you say 'yes'. Then we'll go shopping with Fiona. We'll have a girls' day out. What do you say?"

"Well...I don't know." Yvette glanced from Maddie to Fiona and back, then fixed her gaze on Sam and Michael, who sat across the table from the women.

"You'll be in good hands with Fiona, Yvette. Trust me."

"Mikey's right, Yvette. She's more than capable of handling herself."

Fiona gave Sam a slight nod in appreciation for his vote of confidence.

"But...I don't have any money. Everything I have is tied up in an account here in Miami, but if I tap into it, don't you think Mr. Roche will find out and come looking for me?"

"I doubt it," Michael answered. "I just got word this morning that the Lorelei is cruising toward South America as we speak, and there's speculation that Roche is preparing to steal something in Brazil. He's too busy somewhere else to worry about you. It'll be fine."

"Thank you, Michael. All of you. When I lost Romana, I thought I would never have another friend as good as she was. As best friends go, she was the best of the best." She paused. "But I was wrong. Thank you for showing me that all was not lost."

"Hey, what are friends for?" Sam tipped up his beer, and the others followed.


End file.
